They Don't Tell Us
Anything
By unperfectwolfArchive: sure,
that's coolRated: pg13Warnings:
character deathFandom, Pairing: Harry Potter Un. JK Rowling, dracohermioneSummary: "Out
of the crowd, two people he didn't want to see appeared. They were
coming to him, towards him. He wondered if they blamed him."Disclaimer: not
mine, never was mine, never will be mine. all is j k rowlings'sWord Count: 773

THEY
DON'T TELL US ANYTHING

When
he entered the room, he was the center of attention. Much like when
he was younger, his presence commanded that people look at him, that
they watch him. He was, for all intents and purposes, eye catching.

When
he was younger, he'd demanded that respect, wanted it. Welcomed it
with open arms.

Now,
he looked at all of the faces and cringed, wanting to slink into the
crowd and disappeare. He didn't know why he came. No one would really
want to see him. There was nothing here for him, except memories.

There
were memories, of course, of those years he'd spent in the protective
embrace of Hogwarts. Year's he'd spent fighting with people who were
his friends and allied with his enemies.

And
there were memories of her.

Out
of the crowd, two people he didn't want to see appeared. They were
coming to him, towards him. He wondered if they blamed him.

He
blamed himself, that was a given, but he wondered if anyone else
blamed him. Maybe no one else even knew how she had died. He didn't
know. He'd disappeared as soon as he was able to move.

When
they reached him, it seemed like only he was aware of the eyes on
them. They were searching his face, looking for something. What, he
didn't know. They didn't seem to be finding it, whatever it was.

"Where
is she?" the first one, The-Boy-Who-Fucking-Couldn't-Die, asked
him.

"Where
is who?" he asked. He didn't know who they were talking about.
She? He hadn't 'kept company' with a woman since her.

"Where's
Hermione?" the red head reached out, like he was going to grab
him, but stopped himself.

He
looked at them, his eyes wide. They didn't know. It had been five
years and they didn't know. No one had told them. Why had no one told
them? Why hadn't someone saved him the trouble, saved him the pain?
"You… You don't know."

It
wasn't a question, it was a statement. They didn't know.

Harry
and Ron looked at each other, then back at him. Worry etched into
their faces as he looked at them, his pale complexion becoming paler.

He
wasn't healthy looking. He was pale, paler than he'd ever been at
school, and he'd always been extremely pale then. He was leaning
heavily on a walking stick, not a decorative one like his father had
had, but one that he actually used. He had scars, some visible, some
not, that hurt with every movement. Wizarding medicine could only do
so much.

"We
don't know what?" The-Boy-Who-Lived asked.

"She…"
He almost couldn't say, but he did. He forced the words that he had
pretended didn't exist for the last five years past his lips. "She
died, in the final battle."

They
looked at him with such betrayal he wondered what they had been told.
Had they been told that she was still alive, off living with him? He
wished, so much, that that was true. But he had seen her fall. He'd
seen her body crumple. And there had been nothing he could do.

She
was dead.

Now
he wished he was too. He wished he could escape from the looks that
they were giving him, the horrible unbelieving stares that told him
they expected him to yell out "gotchya!" and bring her
forward from where ever he was hiding her.

But
it wasn't the case. He didn't have her hidden somewhere. She was
dead, laid to rest as one of the hundreds that had died in the war,
in the war cemetery the Ministry had procured.

"I…"
the red head tried to say something. "Draco, I'm so sorry…"

Draco
just nodded, swallowing against the lump that was forming in his
throat. "How… How did you not know?"

Harry
turned accusing eyes towards the group of adults from their
childhood. "They don't tell us anything. We've had to find out
who died on our own."

Ron
nodded. "It's been a long two weeks."

Draco
stared at them. "Two weeks?"

"We've
been in the hospital since that day… You didn't know?" Harry
looked at him, eyes widening. "Did they not tell anyone
anything?"

Draco
looked at them, hurt shinning in his eyes before he could shutter
them. "Apparently not."

He
turned and left the room as quickly as he could. His uneven footsteps
echoed down the hall with him as he remembered all the time he'd
spent in these halls, all of the memories he had.

He
lived off his memories now, because that was all he had. He lived off
the memories and the nightmares, the dreams and the letters.

He
lived to see if maybe someday he would join her.

Finished
12 March 2005.

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